


The one last thing I need to tell you

by thesongofsnow



Category: Dunkirk (2017)
Genre: Angst, George is only mentioned, Grief/Mourning, M/M, POV Peter, a little hope at the end, because George is dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-21 10:38:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15555900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesongofsnow/pseuds/thesongofsnow
Summary: After George's death, Peter feels lonely and keeps talking to George.This is how he lives his grief, telling him about what he should have said before his death.And this is also how he remembers how to live.





	The one last thing I need to tell you

Some days, the pain of your absence is so strong I can barely stand. And some other days, I forget that you died. Those days, I read or think about something funny and I think "Wait until George hears about it". But then I remember that you won’t, that I will never have the chance to tell you this joke or see your smile become brighter the second you understand it. I will never have the chance to see you at all, at least not as long as I am walking this earth. And I feel guilty for smiling, in the first place.  
Father says I should not mourn you forever. Remember you, absolutely, but not mourn you. He says you were a good person and a loyal friend, but that the end of your life should not be the end of mine.  
He says I have to move on.  
He doesn’t understand, though.  
I don’t blame him, as he is not aware of my feelings for you.

Today I went on your grave. I left some flowers, I hope you liked them. I did not know what to do, what to say. I had never been on anyone’s grave, before. By the way, I am sorry it took me so long to finally visit you. I am also sorry that I only went because my mother kept pushing me to. But you see, I liked it much better when I could still think of you in your house, helping your parents with some task. Now I can’t un-see your grave, the pictures and the flowers and the kind words, as well as your date of birth followed by the date of that wretched day, when God took you away from me.

The more I think about it, the more I regret not telling you about how much I cared about you or how to see you smile was enough for me to be happy. I was afraid of your reaction, I was afraid I would loose you. But now that I have, I seems silly. It does because of that day you hugged me because you were sad and needed someone to, and because of this moment on the boat, when I started to panic and you took my hand, and mostly because of this night when we almost kissed.  
Do you remember?  
It was late, I was helping you chopping some wood for the fire. I was lost in my thoughts when you came closer to me, thanked me for helping you and then told me how grateful you were to have someone like me in your life, before pressing our foreheads together. I really thought we would kiss, at least until I saw in your kitchen the light from the candle your father had just lit, and took a step back. You looked hurt. Is this why you never tried again? Did you think I had turned you down? I am sorry if you did, because I wanted us to kiss so badly. It is a shame I was not brave enough to tell you that.  
I find it funny -or highly ironic, depending on one’s point of view- how people always thought I was the brave one when really, I spent my whole life chickening out, while you kept doing new things that frightened you.  
What never cease to amaze me, is how peaceful you looked when we left Weymouth. You knew we were going into a war zone, that there would be bombs from the enemy, a death threat upon each of us. Despite all that, you looked peaceful. How is it possible? Did you have a death wish? No, it can’t be. You were scared to die, I know that. You were eager to grow old and show the world your worth. So was it because you felt you were embracing your destiny? Or was it because you thought this was your chance to prove you could achieve greatness? I don’t know why you came and I never will, but I hope the reason why was none of the above, because they were not good enough for you to die. Because you were worth the world to me, and even more.

Oh George, how I wish I could talk to you one last time.

When I saw you fall, my only thought was “Please, God.” It seems like he did not hear me, or maybe we were too many calling his name. It was war time, after all.  
Sometimes, I just think that he simply did not care. One thing is for sure: no one cared the way I did. Your parents never paid you enough attention and you did not have any siblings to look after you. Do you remember when we were kids, one day, you told me that I was lucky because I had all those people to cherish me, and love me, and you had no one. Then I remember swearing to always be by your side and never let you down, never let you fall.  
Well, I let you fall, quite too literally for it to not be very ironic -once again. Maybe this is the reason why our conversation was playing on a loop in my head the whole time I was by your side, hoping you would make it, wishing I could give you every bit of strength I had left.  
And when you died… oh when I understood you were dead, when I realized I had not been with you for you last breath… I could not let them see how broken I was, or how hurt. It sounds ridiculous because it could have easily been explained by the fact that you were my best friend, but I did not dare to risk them understanding how much you mattered to me. I think one of them got it, though, because he told that he was sorry; he, too, had lost someone very dear to him and nothing and no one would ever make it hurt less. He told me that when someone as special as you dies, a part of us dies a little too.  
I did feel like a part of me had just died. I still do.

But there is one other thing he told me. He said that we could still live. That we were allowed to evolve and grow up and grow old, even without the one we missed. That the absence did not have to define us, even though it would definitely shape the “future us”. I did not believe him then, but I think I’m starting to understand what he meant.  
A part of me died with you. But we loose ourselves very often and even though it is generally in a less violent in significant way, we keep going. The loss allows us to keep going.  
Obviously, I will never see your death as an event to help me grow. It will always be the biggest tragedy of my life. I will still wake up feeling your absence. I will still, from time to time, look in the mirror to see the shadow of the man I could have been if you had stayed by my side.  
I will still mourn you, no matter what they say.  
But I will do so by living, by celebrating life, the one you should have had. 

 

Now I guess there is just one last thing I need to do. So here we go:  
For all the times I wanted to say it but did not: George, dear George, I love you.  
And now, as I feel it is time to let you go, I tell you goodbye and, until the next time, farewell.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone,  
> I hope you enjoyed it. This is the first time I write about them but I just felt like I needed to because I ship them since the very first time I watched the movie!  
> Sorry for the grammar and all, I do my best but do not hesitate to nicely notify me if you spot some mistakes (I know it is not written in a perfectly correct English so I won't be offended).  
> As always, do not hesitate to comment and review!  
> I hope you all have a nice day!


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